


Tithe

by regents



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch, Wallander (UK TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, multi-fandom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1466968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regents/pseuds/regents
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There was uh--I was just walking along, y'know?" Hussein squared his shoulders. "And next thing I know, this big guy in a car stopped next to me and, like, asked if I needed a lift, yeah?" He looked down at his hands, his eyebrows furrowing. Lesley stood at the foot of the hospital bed, restraining the urge to shake him. "I said 'nah, all good' but he kept insisting and then he got fucking aggressive, starting shouting and shit. Got out of the car and--" Hussein gestured to his side.</p><p>Lesley blew out a breath and, struggling not to sound exasperated, said, "That's it? That's all you remember then?"</p><p>A reworking of the 'troll under the bridge' story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tithe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heywilma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heywilma/gifts), [matadora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/matadora/gifts).



> A multi-fandom crossover set in a fictional town named Brugh in the south of England. 
> 
> The timelines for the three main characters: Lesley is four years from the events of _Broken Homes_ ; Don is after the events of _Thor: The Dark World_ ; and Magnus is after set post- _Wallander_ series. With Lesley, I went with the theory that she went undercover after _Broken Homes_ and had a particularly nasty falling out with Peter. She is also going through some guilt over her actions during the time she was away.
> 
> This maybe a tiny bit influenced by _True Detective_.

It was pouring down buckets, water soaking into the cheap material of his parka. He could practically taste the regret creeping into the back of his throat, bitter and black; the aftertaste of coffee he had for lunch in Uckfield, a few towns back. He pulled the hood down lower on his face as he heaved a sigh, pulling the straps of his rucksack higher on his shoulders. Rain was miserable no matter the season, he thought. "Should've just moved to fuckin' Australia," he muttered under his breath.

Not that he could, really. (Airfares, for one, were bloody expensive as balls.) But it was a nice thought. Maybe this new town would be good enough. At least, it sounded good enough when he heard about it.

His foot slipped on a few loose rocks but he caught himself before sprawling on the side of the road, flailing an arm out and grasping moss and dirt and Toto, this certainly ain't Manchester no more. Buildings grew squatter and more solid, traffic became almost non-existent the farther south he traveled, jumping on trains and buses and walking to stretch out his cash. The signs became fewer and farther in between but he doesn't mind; no one got lost following a straight line. He brushed dirt off his palms on the knees of his jeans and kept walking. 

Trees bowed low along the road, framing the way like a gnarled, leafy tunnel. The handful of cars that drove past him were slow and steady, caution dictating care be taken in case of slippery roads, but no one stopped. He doesn't really expect them to, not when the light was disappearing fast. The rain eased down to a fine mist and the sun simmered dull and orange between the trees. 

He walked three more kilometres before he happened upon a bridge. 

As far as bridges go, it wasn't very impressive: solid and wooden, stocky posts punctuating the sides every couple metres, and wide enough to allow two cars to pass over the sheer drop that borders the flat countryside and the hill beyond. A creek rushed beneath, fed by the rain. The bridge looked old, moss growing on the sides where rainwater had trickled down over the years. 

Now, he wasn't a big bridge enthusiast. He didn't stop to admire the bridge for the sake of it. Only one thing matters: there isn't a space for pedestrians. He looked behind him, at the presently empty road, and then looked back. What're the changes two cars will come at once? He sniffed, brushing his knuckles on the tip of his nose and then he shrugged.

He took a step.

The bridge underneath him shook almost imperceptibly and he startled, glancing up to see a black car rolling down the hill, its wheels hitting the other end of the bridge with a cushioned thunk. "Ah _fuck_." He ran back, his feet scrabbling for purchase against the loose rocks. The car gave him a cheery beep as it drove past him and he returned a weak wave back.

He took a moment or two to slow down his heartbeat before he tried again. This time, he bolted, running as fast as his feet could carry him.

"Bad, bad idea, child." The voice was low and gravelly, like rocks grinding against each other. The ground fell away underneath him and he landed heavily on the ground. Something began to drag him by the ankles and he reached his hands out to hold on to something-- _anything_ \--because what the _fuck_ , he wasn't about to get fucking mugged in the middle of the bloody country. His palms were stinging and bloody by the time the force immediately stopped.

A choked sob escaped him before he could stop himself and there was a sound of pebbles pinging against glass. _Like fucking laughter_ , he thought, on the verge of hysteria. "Don't cry--adrenaline ruins the meat."

He felt himself pulled up by some vice-like grip on his ankles and his curiosity got the better of him. He craned his neck. 

And looked.

" _What the hell are y--_ " There was a sharp crack and everything went dark.

*

"Yeah, well, sod that," Lesley said, gritting her teeth, her hand squeezing her mobile so tight, it was thoroughly strangled by every other person's standards. "I can't keep driving over to London when I need something from the library, I should be able to rely on you guys to send shit down when you say you would." She switched gears up and her beaten up old Honda Accord revved up with more gusto than it could actually muster.

"I'm sorry," came the flat reply from the other end of the line. Her eyes flicked upwards, as if pointing out to some omnipotent being: _see_ what she had to deal with. "I will try better next time."

" _No_ , Peter, there's no fucking 'try'," she snapped, about to unleash the barrage of angry retorts that built up over the course of the past two weeks. Remembering that she and her former partner _just_ got back to semi-speaking terms, she took a deep breath. "Whatever, do what you think is right."

 _You gonna let this bad blood between us get in the way of proper policing, mate?_ The loaded pause she left hanging seemed to be have the desired effect and she could hear Peter clearing his throat. 

"Fine."

She pumped her fist in silent victory, a grin spreading across her face. "Good." Lesley flicked the headlights on as the dark closed in on the road in front of her. Only fifteen minutes before she reached town and she still needed to pick takeaway from dinner.

"You owe me one." His tone almost sounded like the way it was before (four and a half years ago now) that she was momentarily speechless.

"Yeah, alright." Lesley cleared her throat. She steered the car around a bend and slowed down a little. The old bridge was drawing near and she never really trusted infrastructure that wasn't at least reinforced with concrete. "Coffee next time I'm--" The words died in her throat as her headlights shone on a crumpled form off to the side of the bridge. 

There was always something really striking about blood blooming out of a wound.

"I'll call you back." Her voice was tight and she vaguely heard Peter stutter a reply before she ended the call and pulled over. 

Lesley unclipped her gun out of her holster (because you cannot override programming, especially when you were taught to hold a gun first before a wand) and held it securely in her right hand, her other already flicking through her speed dial. Magnus for homicide. Don for medical emergencies. The headlights threw the scene in a pool of light, bright enough to cut through the perimeter. She drew closer, close enough to identify the figure on the ground: Middle Eastern male, late teens to early twenties, visual indications of assault and grievous bodily harm. 

The area cast in bright light was still but for the occasional slight breeze. Keeping her other senses on alert, Lesley crouched down for closer inspection, a familiar heavy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach, steeling herself to call a death, when the boy drew a ragged breath in. 

"Fucking hell," she said, her hand flying immediately to her phone. "Don?" She doesn't bother with the niceties. (She wanted to blame Magnus.) "I need an ambulance sent over -- outskirts of town heading to the A23, by the old bridge."

"Wh--okay, okay." There was a sound of scuffling and Don giving the orders to a nurse. "Is it ur--"

"It's urgent--I think we're losing him--" She was down on her knees, mud squelching underneath as she turned the boy around so she could see clearer. Lesley almost wished she didn't. "Bloody hell," she breathed out.

There was a messy, jagged wound on the boy's abdomen, cut down deep enough for the flesh to flap open a little when she moved him. A fresh stream of blood dripped out of the wound, which made her draw a sharp breath. There was mud smeared around the boy's side. "He's still bleeding. I'm going to apply some pressure," Lesley said, her tone strained into calmness. She put her phone on speakerphone and set it on the ground beside her. "Don, he's lost a lot of blood--" When she pressed down, she felt grit and loamy soil give underneath her palm. "What the fuck--"

"Les?"

There was a pause as she held a hand up to the light. Dirt and blood. "It's like they fucking filled the wound with soil." There was another pause as she waited for Don to say something assuring. When it didn't come, she sighed and said, "This isn't good, is it?"

"He could go into sepsis anytime now," Don said, sounding grim.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "Shit."

"Is he conscious?"

"No--wait." She peered over the boy's face. "Mate? You with me?" A weak moan escaped him, his eyes moving beneath closed lids. "He's… here. Barely, but still here."

"Okay, just hold on, Lesley, ambulance shouldn't be too long now." He was using his reasonable doctor voice on her. Granted, Don was almost always reasonable, but there were times when it was well and truly appreciated. "What happened?"

She looked down at the boy's pinched expression. Too bloody young. "I don't know, found him on the side of the road."

"Monsters."

"You're telling m--" There was a rustle of leaves on the cluster of bushes and undergrowth near the bridge. Lesley would've turned back to what she was doing but there was an audible creaking sound, as if the wooden foundations of the bridge were straining. _Snap_. "Don," she said quietly.

"Les, what's happening?" His tone was urgent again. "Lesley?"

 _Snapsnapsnap_. Broken branches, somewhere beyond the pool of light around her and the boy. "Someone's still out there." She glanced down at the dirt and blood on her hands. "Something." Lesley shook her head. "I can't leave him here. Don--keep listening, okay? No matter what happens, you could hear something."

"What the fuck are you saying?"

"It's okay." She took a deep breath. There was a shape looming closer and closer from the woods. "It's okay." 

"Lesley." He sounded angry now.

"Don."

"Don't be an idiot."

Lesley let out a laugh and freed a hand from staunching the wound, beginning to feel the shape of the _forma_ in her mind; the spell was a desperate, angry, clawing thing. Perfect--she wouldn't have it any other way. The figure was clear of the woods now, standing a few metres away from the light. "Oi, you! Step into the light," she called out. 

Don groaned over the phone.

"Do you think that's a good idea, constable?" Her jaw tightened as the voice reached her. Low, guttural, the words were slow and deliberate as if the man was unused to talking. 

"You think I'd ask if I didn't think so?" Lesley said, sarcastic. Yeah, smart idea that: antagonising a potential suspect with no backup. She should win a medal or something. 

There was a brief pause followed by the sound of rocks smashing into glass and coarse laughter. It took her a moment to realise that all the sound came from the man. Her eyebrows furrowed even more. "You might as well leave him here," the man said, a large hand pointing to the body prone on the ground in front of her. "I was coming back for seconds."

She should've waited a second or so but his words hit a nerve and she let the spell she was holding onto loose, a bolt of red light careening towards the figure. The man tried to move but he was too slow, heavy. It hit him squarely in the knee and he buckled, the force with which he hit the ground making it shudder. 

Lesley could hear him shuffling, hands dragging his bulk forward and she scrambled to get another spell lined up. One of his hands hit the light and she faltered. Was it a hand? She saw jagged rock shaped into the approximation of a human hand, larger than a football, parts of it was covered in moss.

"What the fuck are you?" She heard herself ask. There was brief moment of silence before it was pierced by the wail of an ambulance. 

"I was about to ask the same of you, constable." 

Ambulance lights appeared across the bridge and it skidded a few metres away from her and the boy, the additional lights disorienting her for a moment. When she looked back to where the man had been, she could see shrubs and branches being snapped away in the distance. The sound of the paramedics almost drowned out the heavy splash into the stream.

All Lesley could think as they pulled her away from the boy was: the fall should kill him.

*

Magnus arrived at St Celia's at around eight o'clock in the morning, striding through the halls and flashing his badge at the duty nurse who tried to block his path to the wards. "I'm after the John Doe matter, PC May brought him in last night?"

The nurse, an older woman with greying hair, inspected him over the top of her glasses before deliberately flicking through the notepad in her hands. "Second to the last room," she said, gesturing shortly towards a narrow corridor to his right. "We've isolated him."

He quirked an eyebrow. "That bad, huh?"

"Honey," the nurse said dryly. "Try having your kidney cut out of you with jagged rocks and see how you like it." Magnus snorted and she turned to move away but she seemed to think twice, fixing him with her grey eyes, stark against her dark brown skin. "Find those monsters, won't you? They deserve to go away for a long time after what they did."

He gave her a curt nod before leaving. Sounds from the hospital echoed down the hall as he walked down it, stopping abruptly when he opened the door the nurse mentioned. The windows were drawn open, the grey light from the overcast sky streaming in. The boy was laying still under a thin blanket, pale and drawn. A machine next to him showed that he was stable, the green wave cresting sharply with each heartbeat. 

Lesley was slumped on the armchair next to the bed, her breathing quiet. Magnus cleared his throat. When she didn't stir, he went and shook her shoulder gently until she came to, mumbling and crabby. 

"Good morning to you too," she sniped, straightening up in her seat. 

"Morning," he said, ignoring the sarcasm and raising an eyebrow in silent question. Lesley shot him a sharp look, made even worse by the dark circles that bloomed underneath her eyes. "You look terrible."

She let out a harsh bark of laughter. 

"Go home." Magnus looked behind him, making sure nothing was in the way, before he sat himself on the edge of the bed and crossing his arms, his legs stretched out in front of him. The boy didn't stir. "We could've done the briefing at the station after you've gotten some sleep and you're not useless."

"I'm not useless," she said, her tone arch, before she eased back into the armchair. There was a pause and he had a feeling he was intruding on a private thought. "I just need a coffee." Lesley rubbed her eyes and when she blinked back at Magnus, there was some alertness back in them. "Then I'll show you something."

"Something in my division?" he asked, his mouth pressing into a thin line. 

She grunted. "Either, or--I'm not sure yet." Lesley stood up and gestured towards the door. "Just gonna wash my face."

Magnus sighed, shaking his head slightly, before shifting off the bed and on to the armchair that she left. The door clicked shut and he was left with the quiet breathing of the unconscious boy. Christ, they were getting younger. He peered at the kid, unable to distinguish whether the slightly sunken cheeks or the bruises under his eyes were an effect of rough living or the attack. Magnus pulled his phone out and flicked through his emails, clicking through to the medical report that Lesley forwarded over that morning. He was scanning through the list of injuries again when the door opened, the smell of strong coffee filling the small room. 

"Should've figured you'd be here," Don said, lifting a cup up in greeting. He looked about as weary as Lesley did.

"I consult with her now," he said dryly but he shot his friend a quick smile. "So do you, come to think of it."

Don set down the coffee cup on the stand off the foot of the hospital bed and moved to check on the drip. "We don't exactly get paid though," he said, letting the tubing go with a satisfied nod.

Magnus looked amused, the corners of his mouth tugging up slightly as he watched his friend go through the medical protocols. "She owes us a beer each," he said. Or at least, help next time either of them needed it. Quid pro quo--a surprisingly stable foundation for friendship. He leaned forward, resting his elbows by his knees as he steepled his fingers under his chin. "What do you think? Was this kid in trouble or he just had some really shitty luck?" 

"Ah, a bit of both," Don said, hand resting on the foot of the hospital bed for support. "He showed some signs of poor nutrition and from his personal effects, it looked like he's been travelling." He pursed his lips. "It's likely he's a runaway."

"Les emailed me the medical report," he said, clicking his tongue. Magnus stared at the spiky green wave on the vital signs monitor. 

"What do you think?"

"How can rocks make a cut that deep?"

Don's jaw tightened and it was a moment or so before he said, "Depends. Some rocks, if they're thin and sharp enough could be used to pierce through muscle as well as a knife could, but these…" He rubbed his cheek. "The rocks weren't nearly as sharp, it would've taken a number of tries to puncture the skin wide enough to start cutting a bigger wound." Magnus realised that he was holding his breath. "It would've been painful. If he was lucky, he could've passed out halfway through the ordeal."

"Bloody hell." He scanned the boy's face again. "It's clearly not organ harvesters--they're more prone to use surgical tools to prevent the organs getting damaged."

"I thought so, too." Don let out a heavy sigh. "Which probably makes it worse."

Magnus' eyebrows knit together before it dawned on him. "If it's not for profit, then it's for fun, yeah."

The door swung open and Lesley strode in, looking a lot more awake than she was earlier. She sniffed the air and looked between the two of them before her eyes landed on the cup of coffee. "Oh, you magnificent bastard," she told Don as she practically lunged at it, taking an appreciative gulp. "This is _really_ good."

"Figured you'd need it," Don said, smiling wryly. There was no answer for a few seconds as she drank. Magnus' eyebrows slowly crept up his forehead. "I told her she could go home but she didn't listen." A beat and he shot her a reproachful look. "Two times you didn't listen to me last night."

"What?" Magnus asked, more out of habit than curiosity.

Lesley waved her hand and nodded at the prone figure in front of them. "Let's not talk about that now, how's the kid?"

Don looked like he was about protest but he shook his head. "He isn't out of the woods yet, but he's stable. We're putting him through a few courses of antibiotics to make sure he doesn't get any infections."

"I put a call through to the station just now," Lesley said, gaze darting between Don and Magnus. "He didn't have any ID on him so I put out an enquiry on HOLMES2 for any missing persons matching his description and I'm getting one of the interns to follow up later in the day. But so far, no dice."

Magnus shook his head slowly. "Did you have any leads at the scene?"

Don gave Lesley a pointed look and she had the grace to look at least sheepish. "A few things." It was the good doctor's time to snort. "I may have engaged--" ("You mean goaded?" Don interrupted.) "--a suspect while administering first aid last night." She gave him a tight smile. "The area's cordoned off and we've taken as much information as possible but there could be a couple more things outside the perimeter that we missed."

"Wait, wait," Magnus raised his hands up to stem the flow of information. "You _already_ have a suspect."

"I couldn't identify him," Lesley said. "Too dark. But..."

"But?"

She frowned at both of them and shook her head. "He had rocks for hands. Or he had weird gloves on, I don't bloody know."

Magnus blinked at her before turning to look at Don, who nodded his head almost imperceptibly. Two years ago, he would've thought that Lesley had gone completely insane, but he'd seen a few impossible and implausible things since then; it was hard to discount something witnessed firsthand. "Okay," he said slowly, his gaze edging back to her. "Did he say anything? Give any info about why he did this?"

Her expression darkened. "'I'm coming back for seconds.'" 

They were all quiet for a moment, all three of them staring at the boy. Lesley took a deep breath and downed the rest of her coffee. Don looked unsettled, a faint line running between his eyebrows as his eyes darted between his two friends.

It was Magnus who finally spoke. "We need to take a look at that crime scene."

*

"There's something you should know," Lesley said, and she could almost hear one of his exasperated sighs. On cue, Magnus did, the corners of his mouth deepening into a displeased line. _Ah, there you are, my old friend,_ she thought ruefully as she tried to loosen up a knot on her neck.

The town flashed by around them as they made their way through the main street. A few cars on the road hampered their progress, spring and sunshine luring more people outdoors; Brugh's own version of traffic. "What now?" He cast her a sidelong glance.

They sat at a stop light, waiting for a group of children to pass through. "I think he's dead."

"Christ, Lesley." Magnus pinched the bridge of his nose, as if to stave off the migraine that she was threatening to wrought on him.

"I didn't kill him, _actually_ ," she said archly before her tone returned back to normal. "He ran back to the woods and I heard him fall down, it sounded like something broke." Lesley shook her head. 

They were both quiet as they drove out of the town limits, the road clearing of congestion and houses all but vanishing as trees rushed to replace them. As the bridge swam into view, Lesley nudged Magnus on the arm and pointed to a relatively level bit of shoulder on the road to park. Rocks crunched beneath the tyres as they came to an abrupt halt. She sucked a breath in, trying to settle the sudden sharpening of her nerves, her muscles tensing up immediately as she took in the area from the night before.

"Okay," she said clearly, decisively, and more to herself than for her friend's benefit. "Okay, let's go." Magnus stared at the back of her head as she jumped out of the car but she ignored it and pressed on.

Lesley led him to side of the road where she'd found the boy, a patch of ground, dried mud, and rocks, bordered in a rough circle by tyre marks from the ambulance and the police cars. There was a darker patch of earth where blood had seeped in. The sight made her eye twitch slightly. She stood where she approximated she was crouched a few hours ago and pointed to the patch of the woods where the figure had emerged from then later disappeared into. "He was there," she said, pointing to where a branch was snapped off and hanging by a thread of bark.

Magnus walked over and stood next to her, eyes scanning the distance between them and the woods. His eyebrows were furrowed as he thought. "What's down there?"

"It's a drop," Lesley said, nodding for Magnus to follow her. They pushed aside a few close-growing shrubs before they passed through the first line of vegetation. "Terry almost pulled me down before he got a hold of a tree," she said as they kept walking further in. As the broached the woods, she felt it; a prickle of anxiety at the nape of her neck.

There was a faint click of metal and glanced to see him get his gun out. Lesley didn't question it. Maybe she wasn't the only one feeling watched.

She held her arm out to stop Magnus from walking any further as she spotted the telltale dip on the ground. There was definitely someone there last night. Branches of trees and shrubs bent at strange angles, some snapped off completely, and mulch and undergrowth were disturbed. Lesley crouched down, taking her phone out of her pocket. 

There were footprints. The flash of her camera phone illuminated the surrounding bits of underbrush for a half second, bringing the prints into relief. "That," she said, "Can't be right."

Magnus peered over her shoulder to where she was pointing and, if it was even possible, went even stiller. "No," he said, his voice deliberately even. There was a series of large footprints sinking at least a centimetre into the soft earth. 'Footprints' were probably too general a term. They looked more like imprints of rough, round stumps. Lesley bit the inside of her cheek as she saw her own footprints and one of the new constables' dotting the edges of the trail. She took another photo before Magnus said, "Lead on."

It was less than a metre before they found themselves standing on the edge of the sharp drop down to the creek below. Water rushed merrily through, bolstered from the rain the night before. She felt the kick of disappointment low in her stomach as she scanned the area below.

"No body," Magnus said.

"No." Lesley was grim as she turned to face him. "I'll get a forensic team to check today anyway."

His eyes darted around the area below them. Sharp, jagged rocks littered the bank below. But the fall itself would've been enough to kill a man. Magnus gave Lesley a searching look, both of them quiet for a moment, before she shook her head. _I don't know._

*

A few days later on a mid-afternoon, Lesley snuck out of the police station for a quick lunch, hoping that it was enough time to stop staring at dead end after dead end as each research source kept falling over. _Nordic rock trolls eat the entirety of their prey._ And that was that. Unfortunately, reading about the other rock-based humanoids got marginally less fascinating after that. (Besides, Nightingale said he might have something--though exactly _when_ , Lesley wasn't quite sure. The London nick had a spot of bother involving a string of unexplained disappearances in Kensington.) It was late enough that she didn't have to worry about being cornered by one of the more enterprising new recruits. There was something about the curiosity about her work that set her teeth on edge; too many people curious for the wrong reasons. It was easier with Don and Magnus. It all extended to professional curiosity: can it help--yes or no? Simple.

She ducked into the quiet cafe across the road, shooting the cashier a smile that, while polite, didn't encourage any chitchat. Lesley bought a sandwich and settled on a table facing the windows looking out onto the street. Peace.

Well. _Relative_ peace.

There was still a criminal at large; possibly residing in town, possibly passing through--leads were thin on the ground and what they did have had them running around in circles. On one hand, she did manage to identify the boy: Hussein Malekeh, Huz to his mates. He was staying at a halfway house for teenagers in Manchester a few weeks ago until he went missing… and turned up at Brugh's doorsteps missing a kidney.

Lesley glared at her sandwich, her mind still turning over a piece of text DCI Nightingale emailed through (or had Peter email through) earlier that morning. After another pause, she grunted under her breath and set about demolishing her food. 

She was in the middle of liberating a piece of beetroot from the stack when the wail of an ambulance made her head jerk back. Within a few seconds, the ambulance skidded to a halt across the road, its blues and twos turning off abruptly. Her eyebrows furrowed and she stopped chewing instantly. Someone stumbled out, one of the younger paramedics nearly tripping on the footpath in haste before she rushed into the station. 

Before she knew it, her phone was ringing, the sound shrill in the quiet cafe. "Yeah?" Lesley answered.

"Get down here," Magnus said, voice strained. "Now."

She hung up before he could say anything else, hastily ditching the dregs of her coffee in a nearby bin before sprinting across the road, holding up a car that was making its languid way through town. The sharp _beep_ was jarring compared to the tense hush that had fallen over the front office when she burst through the door. 

The paramedic was there, pale but holding herself together and not at all bad for a newbie, and Magnus, his arms crossed as he leaned against the front desk. Behind them, the two officers on desk duty pretended to do paperwork as they listened for the news.

Magnus started as she strode towards them, pushing himself off to his full height. "What happened?" Lesley asked, looking between the two. 

"Another incident, miss," the paramedic said, her voice rigid. "We found him near the bridge."

Lesley could feel a chill sliding down her back. A sharp glance at Magnus confirmed it before the paramedic spoke again. He shook his head infinitesimally. "We lost him en route to the hospital," the paramedic said, looking at the two police officers in the midst of their wordless conversation. "We flagged down a police car to secure the scene now, but the senior paramedic said the injuries look identical to the previous assault."

The paramedic winced and Lesley jumped on the tell. "You have a different opinion?"

"It looked worse," she said, drawing a hand to her middle, where Hussein Malekeh had sustained his injuries.

"We can go to St Celia's," Magnus cut in, eyeing the tense set of Lesley's shoulders. "We'll get the full assessment of injuries while forensics are checking the crime scene."

"They won't find much," she said before thanking the paramedic. They watched her go, the front doors of the station swinging shut.

"No," Magnus agreed, his mouth pursing before he jangled the keys in his pocket. "It's escalating."

"Yeah," Lesley said, holding her hand out. He dropped the keys in her hand without any further comment, letting her lead the way to his car; letting her feel in control for a few brief moments while the case spiralled out in front of her, seemingly unknowable. 

Don was doing rounds at one of the larger wards when they arrived, skulking near the entrance as they waited for him to finish talking to a group of young doctors crowded around the bed of a patient. He looked in his element, switching between patients with ease as he threw a few questions at the interns; it seemed to calm Lesley down a little, the nervous tapping of her forefinger on her arm slowing to a stop as the minutes ticked past.

"You got here quick," Don said when he made his way over to them, flashing them both a grin. "I only sent the email over lunch."

Magnus gave Lesley a side-long glance. "What--?"

A creased formed between Don's eyebrows, the mildly amused expression on his face holding for a brief couple of seconds before he said, "Hussein! He woke up this morning." He led the two out into the hallway.

Lesley started and questions immediately bubbled up to the surface. "Is he--is he lucid? Can I talk to him or--" She nearly collided with an orderly as he wheeled a patient into the ward. "How is he?"

"You didn't get my email?" They all stopped in the middle of the hallway, the slow trickle of people going in either direction flowing around them.

"We came for something else," Magnus said quickly, nodding for them to keep walking. "There was another victim, same injuries as the earlier case, except…" He shook his head and Don understood.

"Timing is tricky," he said, tapping Lesley on the shoulder before she could turn the wrong corner. She doubled back and kept pace. "It could've been the trauma or the blood loss or sepsis--a whole gamut of things."

"It's not going to happen again," Lesley said shortly as they walked down another hallway, blank and white-walled like all the others. _Who the hell designed the building?_ she thought, keeping her thoughts from straying too far to what happened that afternoon. _M. C. Escher?_

Don gave her a calculating look and said, "He's still very weak so I suggest not aggravating him too much." 

"His stitches?" Magnus asked as they stopped before the door.

"Let's just say he's going to have some very impressive scars."

"Okay," Lesley said, nodding. Her mouth was pulled into a grim line. "Okay, can we just--I want to find out more about that thing."

"Will you know how to destroy it?"

She rubbed her jaw, over the faint red mark that spidered down the side of her neck. "No fucking clue."

"Promising," Magnus said dryly as he pushed the door open.

The boy sat up straighter on the bed as they entered the room, his eyes fever bright and watchful. "I know you," he said, lifting his chin up to acknowledge Lesley. A tight smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"This is PC May and DI Martinsson, Hussein," Don said gesturing at the two of them. When he turned back to his patient, Don smiled warmly. "You can call them Lesley and Magnus, I'm sure."

"How are you feeling?"

"Could be better," Hussein said, shifting in his seat and wincing. Magnus snorted, settling down on the chair next to the hospital bed. After the pain passed, the boy shot them both a wry smile. "Y'know, I was expecting some peace and quiet after all the shit I left in Manchester but--" He shrugged. "Getting mugged in the middle of nowhere. That's got to be a first."

Don, Lesley, and Magnus exchanged a look.

It was Magnus who spoke first. "What exactly do you remember?"

"There was uh--I was just walking along, y'know?" Hussein squared his shoulders. "And next thing I know, this big guy in a car stopped next to me and, like, asked if I needed a lift, yeah?" He looked down at his hands, his eyebrows furrowing. Lesley stood at the foot of the hospital bed, restraining the urge to shake him. "I said 'nah, all good' but he kept insisting and then he got fucking aggressive, starting shouting and shit. Got out of the car and--" Hussein gestured to his side.

Lesley blew out a breath and, struggling not to sound exasperated, said, "That's it? That's all you remember then?"

"Les…" Don said, warning. "He probably didn't see anything."

Magnus cut in, looking directly at Hussein. "What did he look like?"

"What?"

"What did the man look like?" he repeated, his voice even.

There was a brief loaded pause before Hussein said, "Big and ugly."

Lesley laughed before she could stop herself and Don's mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. Shaking her head, Lesley nodded to her friends and said, "You better turn your mobiles off." Hussein looked puzzled as the two men complied with her request.

"What's going on?"

"Mate," she said, shaking her head. "We both know you didn't get done in by some rando so let's just cut through the whole 'ohhh, but you won't believe me if I told you what _really_ happened' spiel and get to the point, alright?" Don nodded at her once his mobile was safely tucked away in his pocket. 

Magnus hesitated and said, "We can talk about what happened after this all settles down--we just need to deal with who's doing this."

"Wait--what do you mean?" Hussein said, aghast. "Did it hurt someone else?"

"Yeah and it looks like they'll keep going," Lesley said, feeling the _forma_ curl around her mind like an old friend. "Whoever they are." A werelight popped into existence, floating over her right palm, emitting a pearly white glow. It flickered strangely on her face.

Hussein pulled his legs under him, scrambling away until his back hit the headboard of the hospital bed. "What the fuck is that?"

"He's gonna ask about Harry Potter," Magnus said, a corner of his mouth curling.

Don snickered. "You've got good chances."

" _Please_ don't ask about Harry Potter," Lesley said, rolling her eyes.

Hussein glanced between the three of them. "Are you fucking serious? Are you guys, like, from Hogwarts or something?"

"No," Don said, grasping his shoulder. "And don't move too much, your stitches aren't going to feel any better tomorrow if you overdo it."

With a flick of the wrist, the werelight popped off and Lesley cracked her knuckles. "Right," she said briskly. Hussein eyed her hands warily. "Now that we've established that we'll probably believe you no matter how crazy your story sounds, _what did you see?_ "

"Are you gonna kill it?"

On the chair, Magnus raised his eyebrow. Don looked expectant.

"We'll see what we can do."

*

Don was tight-lipped as they walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind them. The hospital was back to buzzing, the noise of its activities humming through the hallway. He gestured for them to follow him and he led them through to his office. The curtains were pulled open, showing a patch of the woods beyond them. Don moved to sit behind his desk as Magnus settled on one of the armchairs positioned in front of it. Lesley remained standing, still too amped up from the talk with Hussein.

Clearing his throat, Don said, "What's going to stop it?" She knew that there was another layer to his question but she ignored it. They were both eyeing her warily, equal parts suspicion and resignation, expecting a lie.

Lesley opened her arms in exasperation. _What?_

"You know what he's asking, Les," Magnus said, his tone clipped. "An answer would be nice."

She blew a breath out and crossed her arms. "I don't know," Lesley said and Don's shoulders sagged a little. "If I can get away with a basic spell, then it probably wouldn't take too much of a toll."

"Dr Walid hounded me for a week after that last stunt you pulled," Don said quietly, referring to the Folly's favourite cryptopathologist and the last time that she got particularly liberal with her magic usage. Needless to say, she had a very thorough and stern talking to by both the Scot and the American. 

"It was worth it," she said, her voice strained but quiet. Lives saved, happily ever after--that's what mattered, right? 

Magnus stirred in his seat and fixed his cool gaze on her. Lesley returned it with an unreadable expression. "You told us to talk you off the ledge when you needed it." Gesturing between him and Don, he said, "This is us talking you off the ledge."

"There's no ledge."

Don shook his head. "This is one."

"When we get these difficult cases, you inevitably reach this moment," Magnus added. 

Her jaw clamped shut. She knows what he was talking about. Lesley was aware of it even though she acknowledged it; she was constantly grasping for some kind of atonement. Don seemed to sense her reluctance to speak and he said, "We don't have to get into _why_ , but you should know that it's clouding your judgement."

"We know that you know what you're doing," Magnus said gently, his expression giving way to concern, mirroring Don's. "But we just want you to be careful."

Now she had two concerned faces looking at her expectantly; surely this wasn't fair. There was an oppressive couple of seconds of silence before she spoke again. "Okay. Yeah? Okay, I hear what you're saying."

Neither of them looked completely convinced but they nodded. Don spun around in his seat slowly to find a file and turned back to them, flipping through its contents. "Dr Walid suggests that you do not exceed this threshold of thaumaturgic exertion," he said, business-like, tapping his finger at a graph. After seeing the exasperated look on Lesley's face, he recanted. "Just, don't overdo it."

"You've got my wor--" A sharp ring cut off her sentence. She winced but answered it anyway. "Yeah?"

The line crackled a little before Nightingale's voice came clear. "Lesley, I had Peter email you something, it should give you some more guidance."

She moved to a corner of the room, an attempt at politeness. "Thanks but I, we spoke to the kid, a few things have changed and I don't know if that'll affect your opinion," Lesley said, rubbing the heels on her palms between her eyebrows.

"Have a read anyway and call me back tonight to discuss."

"Later then, thanks, boss."

When she turned around, Magnus was rising to his feet. "Heading back to the station?" Don asked, moving to open the door. 

"I'll organise a patrol for the next couple of days," Magnus said, nodding before he ducked into the hallway. "We'll keep you in the loop."

"Remember what we talked about," Don said as Lesley clasped him on the arm.

*

Another week went past. The calmness of the town did not help the unease that settled over her; the low-grade noise and bustle of the police station hid an undercurrent she couldn't quite understand. Maybe it was a warning. Nightingale did tell to keep an eye out for anything strange. He neglected to specify what kind of strange, but Lesley was not about to go back to him with "I feel weird." (At least, _at least_ he gave her a better idea what the culprit could possibly be.)

She felt vindicated when they found the empty police car sat idling by the side of the road, the requests for status reports going unheeded until the operator finally sent someone else to check on them. A local hiker lay prostrate on the side of the road, knocked out but otherwise unscathed, rainwater sliding off his face, when one of the new recruits finally got there the only sounds was the drone of the unattended car and the choppy rattle of the police motorbike. 

Don received her text during lunch.

_Time to play Where's Magnus._

*

The floor creaked underneath her feet as she reached the back door to her flat. Lesley knew who it was before it even swung open. "I've got the car running," Don said, his face grim. She opened her mouth to speak but he only added, his tone brooking no argument, "I'm going with you."

Her mouth snapped shut before she nodded. The rain had abated into a fine mist and as she stepped outside, Lesley couldn't help the wry, "Well, visibility is going to be a bitch."

They were clear out of town before Don said, "What's the plan?" His eyes were fixed on the road, his jaw set in a taut line. The thought hit her suddenly; the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she realised that she was bringing another friend closer to danger. And worse.

Even more worse.

"I don't have one," she said plainly, watching his expression change from surprise back to determination. "There's something under that bridge; Nightingale thinks it's really old and from what we've seen… really carnivorous."

"So what--you're gonna go down there and convince it to stop eating people?" Don said, incredulous.

 _As Nightingale said: when in doubt…_ "No, I'll go down there and try to shoot its head off." 

A pause. "And if you can't?"

Lesley looked grim. "Then you try."

It is nearly sunset when they reach the old bridge, pulling into the shoulder of the road and scrambling over the loose, slippery rocks as the rain continued to fall in curtains. Lesley stopped before the mouth of the woods and turned to look back at Don, following close behind her. "Here," she said, reaching into her holster and pulling out her Browning.

"I don't--"

She shot him a weak smile and showed him the safety. "Slide that off, aim, pull the trigger, and hope for the best."

"Lesley…" Don looked uncomfortable as the weight of the gun moved from her hands to his.

"I'm going to try my hardest to make sure you wouldn't have to use it," she said, her eyebrows knitting together. "But in case anything happens, you need this."

The path was slow going, with the rain and the squelching mud underfoot, but they could hear the stream rushing ahead so they pushed through. She nearly missed the telltale dip in the ground before the sheer drop and she skidded through the mud for traction. Don swore quietly as he saw ground fall away into nothing before them.

"Don't follow unless I'm not back in 30 minutes," she said, testing a few tree roots that clung stubbornly to the ground at the edge of the drop. "Call Nightingale first though. Tell him what's happening."

"I can climb down with you," he said stoutly, crouching down to the ground and pulling against a vine. Her gun was tucked into one of his coat pockets. He only stopped when he noticed that she had fallen silent again. 

"You know what they say about having all the eggs in one basket?" she said quietly and Don's expression morphed into annoyance. With the rain dripping down miserably on them, the sight would have been rather funny in different circumstances. "I'll send up a werelight if things get bad." She seemed to reconsider for a second before she added, "Might as well call for an ambulance if that happens too."

He snorted but let the vine go. "If you're not back in 30, I'm going in."

"Yes, mum," she quipped, because it felt immediate and normal, as if they were hanging out at his kitchen and she was balancing off one of the stools rather than hanging off slimy branches and tree roots. Lesley flashed a sharp grin at him, Don's face a mixture of irritation and worry.

The climb down was tricky but she gripped onto vines and tree roots until her knuckles turned white, her feet scrabbling for purchase. It took her ten minutes to reach the rocky ground, the stream deceptively shallow but rushing with water. Her jeans and black shirt were smeared with mud and detritus. Lesley walked a few metres towards the bridge and stopped next to a boulder jutting out of the ground to catch her breath.

The world beneath the bridge was steeped in shadow; the foliage and clouds drenching the gloom in strange shapes. She felt like the first idiot who ventured downstairs in every goddamn horror movie. "Fuck that shit," Lesley muttered and conjured a werelight, floating it ahead of her as she walked forward.

She held her palm out in front of her, pulling together the threads of a _forma_ and then pushing the spell outward; a pulse and a faint ripple within a five metre radius. Nothing happened. Her frown deepened. Lesley finally stepped into the shelter of the bridge, skirting along the edges while the werelight floated to the middle of the bridge, casting a low, pearly light. She held out her palm to try the spell again when there was the sound of creaking wood and unmistakably, a groan.

Darting to the far column, narrowly avoiding rocks and deep puddles, she went around it and stopped short. "Surprise!" she said weakly as Magnus opened his eyes. He was trussed up against the wooden column, vines and roots snaking around his arms and feet; a purple bruise bloomed over his right eye.

"Took you long enough," he croaked, struggling in his binds. Lesley hauled herself up on the base and flicked the werelight off. She pressed a hand on the knot of vines around his feet and felt her palms heat up until a fire crackled to life, burning through the damp wood until they were weak enough for Magnus to kick off.

When he pulled his hands free, he immediately jumped off the base and she followed suit. "Did you see what it was?" Lesley said as they reached the sharp incline back to the road. She could make out Don's face peering down at them and she waved. 

Magnus still looked a little dazed but he nodded. "Humanoid but," he waved vaguely, "He's solid rock throughout. I tried punching him and I nearly broke my hand."

She pushed him towards the incline and urged him to start climbing. "I'll come back later with backup," she huffed as she pulled her weight onto a tree root. Magnus was nearly halfway, spurred on by adrenaline. 

Lesley was keeping up until she felt herself knocked clean off the incline. Don was yelling. She hit the ground hard, her left arm grazed rock and came away red and slick with blood. There was a quiet rumble above her and she brought her gaze towards it.

It looked roughly like a human; its limbs and torso made of hewn rock and its head carved with human features. It blinked at her, eyes coal black. It spoke before she could say anything. "What are you?"

She pushed herself back to her feet and took stock of her injuries. Nothing broken so far. Lesley grinned at it; flashing teeth. "Could say the same for you."

It mimicked her, its gash of a mouth widening to show a line of jagged flint. She repressed the urge to shudder. "I am but a lowly mountain troll, constable." It moved, circling around her and cutting her off from the incline. She could no longer hear Magnus or Don. "But you should already know that, shouldn't you? Surely a member of your coven should have told you."

"Coven?" Lesley snorted, a brief flare of amusement amidst the panic.

The troll moved again, a barely perceptible shift. "Don't be coy now, _witch_." Its voice was cold. Playtime was over then.

"Trolls aren't supposed to feed more than once a year," she said, hoping to buy time as she pulled the threads of a spell together; something barbed and shattering. 

It stepped forward but Lesley held her ground. "Unfortunately, constable, my meal was rudely interrupted." The troll shrugged. "I am owed a tithe, it was not fully paid."

"Why not eat the others then?" Her arms were growing heavy with the weight of the spell. "Why take one organ from one and then leaving the other concussed? You're pretty shitty at debt collection."

There was the sound of rocks pinging against glass, the troll's shoulder was shaking. It took Lesley half a second to realise it was laughing. "An easy answer: why eat goat when you can have sheep?"

"Did you just call me a sheep?" she asked, her voice harsh.

It bared its flinty teeth at her again. "No disrespect meant, constable. In fact, practitioners are a delicacy amongst--"

There was a gunshot and _CRACK._ The troll reared back, roaring. When it stumbled sideways, Lesley saw Magnus standing ashen-faced a few metres away from the bridge. He gestured frantically at her. She felt the spell unspooling from her arms and she willed it back as she ran. Halfway through, she felt herself flung off the ground, hitting the farmost column with a hard thud. Lesley's eyes were streaming and she glared up at the thing. Magnus kept shooting his gun at it, bullets lodging into the side of the troll's face, pieces of rock chipping away. She could see a black core shining through its skull.

It raised a massive hand to deal the last blow. Lesley closed her eyes. Magnus was emptying his gun cartridge on the troll's head. The spell was crackling underneath her skin like electricity. "Got you, you piece of--" There was a blinding flash of red light.

Then everything started crashing down.

She sank to her knees, fatigue weighing down deep in her bones. Her mind was starting to blur, thoughts stuttering like a defective ticker tape. Lesley could hear the sound of rock collapsing and crumbling while old, dry wood splintered and caught fire.

" _Lesley_." She blinked up. Don's face loomed in front of her, angry and concerned. She felt herself yanked up and then nothing.

*

There was water dripping down her face, onto the hollow of her neck. There was a steady pressure on her chest but she couldn't breathe. Panic crept in and pushed her up, gasping and struggling for breath. Lesley barely registered Don's face before she felt herself enveloped in a crushing hug. "You are a massive idiot," he said, his voice choked.

"You flatter me," she managed to rasp out, her arms tightening around him slightly before letting go.

Magnus pushed in and pulled her roughly into a one-armed hug. "You're both idiots," Don said again, shaking his head.

Above them, police lights flashed red and blue over the scene. The bridge hanging lopsided with one part collapsed into rubble. Lesley winced as her eyes travelled down to the pile of charred black rock underneath it all.

"I'm getting you scanned when we get back to Celia's," Don said weakly, his eyes settling on the debris.

She nodded, still quiet.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side," Magnus muttered, finally breaking his silence.

Lesley grinned at them both, her face hurting.

Worth it though.


End file.
